


The Sky is Wrecked

by MaryyJayy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dave | Technoblade-centric, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Wilbur Soot, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade angst, Technoblade is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28301088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryyJayy/pseuds/MaryyJayy
Summary: It’s a weird thing, to understand and acknowledge the fact that you are a danger to the people you love. Obviously, you care about these people and you don’t want to see them hurt. If you could, you’d shield them from everything that could possibly harm them.OrTechnoblade believes that he is a danger to his family. He kills himself for it.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit
Comments: 20
Kudos: 428





	The Sky is Wrecked

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: SUICIDE

_ And the sky is wrecked, full of rotting clouds _

_ From chimney mouths spewing smoke around _

_ And I can't stop coughing _

_ My lungs just won't calm down _

_ But still I keep grinning _

_ As the blood from my face stains the ground _

  
  


It’s a weird thing, to understand and acknowledge the fact that you are a danger to the people you love. Obviously, you care about these people and you don’t want to see them hurt. If you could, you’d shield them from everything that could possibly harm them.

But the thing that is the most dangerous to them, is you. And that’s probably the most painful thing. Because you know that in order for them to be safe, you shouldn’t be around them; but you can’t just leave, because you love them. 

And they don’t understand, of course, they don’t, because they love you too. They don’t want you to leave, and they don’t see the danger of you. To them, you are fixable, lovable, things that you know you are not. Things that you will never be.

They are people that you have grown up with, people who saw many of your firsts. Your father, your brothers; family. They are people that you cannot bare to leave, but people that you’d never want to suffer. You’re not sure if it’s harder to stay, or harder to leave.

If you look back, you can remember more times that you hurt them rather than kept them safe. Sometimes it was you hurting them directly, other times it was a consequence of your actions. 

You had tried to be better; to do better. But this is just who you were and that was never going to change. Once a monster, always a monster. It’s just your nature. You were born to fight.

Ever since you were a kid, you had never quite fit in with the rest of your family. An older brother who was a musician and poet, a younger brother with endless ambition and a heart of gold, and a father who had taken you in despite your destiny. 

They were typically peaceful people, obviously, they fought when need be. But they were not like you, they took no pleasure from pain. They did not hear whispers, they did not feel the urges, they did not want to destroy.

How lucky - or unlucky - were you to have met them? Out of all the deserving people, it was you who became their family. It was bittersweet, like receiving an amazing gift when you know you’ve been bad. 

You come from a place of fire and death; they come from the heavens. Your father even has the wings to show it. They can’t spend more than a few hours in your birthplace as it’s too hot for them. But the heat is the only thing that makes you feel at home, and their land is too cold for you.

How ironic is it? You were born in a place of fire, and now you were going to die in the freezing cold. 

Even now, in your last breaths, you can still hear the whispers - they call for blood and death. And they will get what they want. But this will be the last blood you ever spill for them.

The wind whistles through the sky, it almost sounds like a song. You close your eyes and lean your head back, allowing the cool breeze to flow through your hair. What you wouldn’t kill to listen to Wilbur sing one last time. You don’t deserve to hear him sing. 

You don’t deserve much these days.

As if picking up on your intention, the wind begins to howl and swirl around you. It feels as if the Gods are yelling at you. They should be happy though, you will finally be out of their way. You had always fought fate, despite knowing that everything was under the control of the Gods. Now, without you, there will be no one left to fight them.

Were you strong or weak? Only weak people run from their feelings, and that’s exactly what you were doing. It’s not like you didn’t fight, it’s just hard to fight something you can’t even touch. 

But on the other hand, you were strong enough to understand that some things you just couldn’t fight. You were strong enough to say goodbye. Strong enough to leave the one thing that you would die for.

Technically, you were still dying for it. Just in a different way than you had imagined.

It was strangely funny. Your catchphrase was that you’d never die, and it really did come true. Not one person had ever come close to killing you, except yourself. It’s fitting that you are the person killing yourself. No one could kill you - the only one who could was you.

You predict that you will be found early the next morning, probably buried under a fresh layer of snow. You had made sure to wander off from home but to still be in a place where they could find you. As strange as it is, you want them to find you. It will bring them more peace to find you dead rather than never finding you at all.

Of course, you felt very bad. A father will have to bury his son - and two brothers will be on their own. They will have to fight for themselves, they will have to grow their own potatoes, they will have to learn to move on. And maybe one day, they will understand why.

This was all for them after all. You were too dangerous, and often brought fights home. On the bad days (which had seemed to grow in number throughout the years) you’d walk through the door covered in blood and your family would look at you. They were scared.

At first, you thought that they were scared of you getting injured. But then you realized that they were scared of you. Scared of the crazed look that permanently settled on your face. Scared of how you sought out destruction, how you made a hobby out of murder.

You didn’t want them to be scared anymore. And you knew that in another perfect world, it wouldn’t end like this. You’d go home and ask for help. But you know that there’s no helping someone that doesn’t want help.

On your bed lay a letter explaining all this. And more. The letter sits in a silky envelope and is addressed to your family. Littered throughout the letter were stray tears that had escaped your lashes. 

Picking up your sword, you stood facing the setting sun. As it lowers, your life ends. And when the sun is no longer visible, you plunge the sword through your chest. And it is peace at last.

When the morning comes, a father will awake and count two sons sleeping. He enters the third bedroom to find it empty, and when his eyes catch the letter, his heart drops. A second isn’t wasted before the letter is torn open.

Two sons awake to their father's cries and pleas. Instantly they know that something has gone terribly wrong, as their father was never one to cry. And when they read the letter, they wail too.

A body is found shortly after they leave the house to search. A family grieves. And they will continue to grieve for the rest of their lives. No matter how many times they re-read the letter, they never understand. 

It never should’ve ended this way.

**Author's Note:**

> Even though it's Christmas, I'm still going to write angst.  
> I didn't proofread this so there might be a lot of errors. It's just a venting fic.


End file.
